Page 69 of Beautiful Beast

“I guess you’ll be the Prince of Wall Street before you expected it.”

Chapter 15

Belle

“Thedoctorsaidwehad six months.”

Adam keeps repeating those words, and there isn’t a good response. We both know the doctor saidwithinsix months, which is very different, and that there’s no guarantee on anything in life, let alone with a terminal diagnosis.

But that doesn’t change how much it hurts, or how unfair it is.

We’re on Adam’s gigantic terrace that has so many amenities we could be at a spa. Buster is sitting on him – a seventy-pound lap dog – and snoring away happily while Adam pets his head. My dog doesn’t warm up to people quickly, so it’s a very good sign he adores Adam as much as I do.

Buster’s standards are very high.

There’s an untouched tray of breakfast food that Adam ordered on the table in front of us that Buster looks at hopefully every so often before going back to sleep.

Neither of the humans are in the mood to eat.

“A lot of people are going to be at the funeral,” Adam says softly.

His Uncle Dennis was a big deal in New York City. He ran one of the world’s most powerful corporations, but he was also a philanthropist and regularly made headlines outside of his business dealings.

The city is grieving today.

There have also been headlines about Adam. People are wondering why he hasn’t made an appearance or a verbal statement on camera.

“We’ll sit on the second floor, and it will be closed off to everyone else,” I remind him. “No one needs to intrude on your private grief, and you don’t owe anyone anything.”

A lot of his hesitation is over his appearance and not wanting to be judged – or worse – in the press on top of everything else he’s going through. I understand because the media loves juicy gossip and speculation would run rampant.

It would also overshadow his Uncle Dennis, and even though I never had the chance to meet the man, I know he doesn’t deserve to have his memorial fade into the background while everyone obsesses over his nephew.

“You’re coming?” Adam asks hopefully.

His gaze meets mine, and his eyes are so forlorn that my heart cracks all over again. We haven’t spoken about our relationship – or whatever it is we’re doing – since he’s been home, but some things don’t need to be said.

We’re together constantly and talk all the time – that speaks volumes.

But today, he needs the words.

I snuggle closer to Adam and Buster on the outdoor couch that is more comfortable than my bed. Buster raises his head to snort and groan at me, upset that I’m intruding on his date with his new friend.

“Of course, I’m going. I took today off work. I want to be there for you.”

The funeral is at the Basilica of St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral and people have been piling flowers outside the building. Dennis Townsend was more than a business mogul. He was a beacon of light, and I’m so glad that Adam is going to continue his uncle’s important work in his own way.

“I haven’t set foot in that church in years,” Adam admits.

“I didn’t realize you were religious.”

“I’m not, but my uncle was, and I grew up attending holiday masses there. I don’t believe in commercializing faith, but a funeral at his church is what he wanted.”

I nod because I feel the same way about organized religion, and I’m not sure what I believe anymore. The storybook idea of a god living in the sky is an important crutch for many people going through hard times.

I’m just not sure if it’s real or made up.

I want there to be something after death, something to believe in, some kind of hope to hold onto, but my logical brain just can’t understand how it’s possible.

---